carry its germ, its essence, something of that unselfish love which, in its full and final expansion, makes heaven and its delights. We can carry with us into the other world no other life, and can have no other there, than that which we have sought and in some degree formed for ourselves while in the flesh. Therefore none can enter heaven, save those who have learned to love and live the life of heaven—have learned to think and feel and will and act to some extent like the angels.
Look, now, at this teaching in a practical point of view. What is its manifest and legitimate tendency? Can we conceive of anything calculated to exert a more benign influence on the hearts and lives of those who receive it?—anything better fitted to lift men above a mean selfishness and sordid avarice, to enlarge their hearts, purify their motives and exalt their aims?—any instruction more healthy and stimulating, or better calculated to make the receiver honest and unselfish, kind and forgiving, just and generous, meek and pure and lowly in heart?—any that offers a stronger inducement to deny self, take up the cross, and follow the Lord in the regeneration?
In the light of this new doctrine it is clear that if we ever go to heaven we must begin on earth to form a heavenly character. We see the weight of an endless eternity pressing upon each day and hour of our existence here below; and seeing this, we shall see and feel the need of continual repentance, earnest prayer, daily watchfulness and ceaseless effort to subdue within us (with Divine assistance) whatever is contrary to the life of heaven;—the need of continual striving to think,
